Weaving Through Time
by BreakingSerenity
Summary: The truth on just how bad Sam's dealing with Dean's deal, through the past, present and future.
1. Past

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Sam and Dean Winchester aren't mine. Supernatural isn't mine nor are the lyrics of the song. **

**Set: After the events of Mystery Spot. **

**Chapter 1/3 **

**Past. **

** My Immortal – Evanescence.**

Sam watched his brother sleep. Studying him as if he had just started to crawl and realize he had an older brother. He watched the rise and the fall of Dean's chest, his heart tearing into shreds as he told himself that after two months, that chest would remain still like the earth beneath his feet. Flat and unmoving. The once-long coil of rope resembling Sam's time left with his brother was slowly burning away, now only inches left before nothing remained.

His life felt like it was coming to an end. Imagining a world without the person he'd known all his life was just impossible. For the past months, he had been barely keeping it together. Every time he entered the bathroom, he felt a small wave of relief. Not because he wanted to get away from his brother, but because he needed that wooden door between them at times when the tears would come.

Every time Dean would smile, showing his row of perfect teeth, giving him the charmed look with his piercing eyes staring at his soul, he would tell himself not to think about two months later. He would wish the voices in his head to go away, always whispering in his ears that he would not see that signature look again.

Every time this battle took place inside of him, tears would burn the back of his eyes and if he thought about it for a little longer, he wouldn't be able to keep them in. It had been like that ever since he was little.

**I'm so tired of being here  
Suppressed by all my childish fears  
And if you have to leave  
I wish that you would just leave  
'Cause your presence still lingers here  
And it won't leave me alone**

The memories of leaving Dean and John for college were forever etched in Sam's mind like words carved into a tombstone. During his stay at Stanford, he had no one to talk to. No one to share his past with. He would pretend to walk away or sometimes be lucky enough to change the subject without arousing any suspicions when they touched the subject of how people were like before school.

Every night spent lying down on his bed; he would think about that night that he put his back in front of Dean and John's faces. They had exchanged some unpleasant words to each other, and after each insult, Sam's brain was screaming at them to leave. Leave not because he wanted them to stop yelling at him, but because he didn't want them to cause themselves so much pain. If they had given up, that meant that Sam had won. It meant on some level, they accepted what Sam was trying to say and let him go.

But that didn't happen.

They wouldn't give up. Their feet were planted firmly onto the ground, their eyes a swirl of anger, sadness and disbelief. After endless arguments tossed around, Sam decided that that was it. With a defiant 'I'm going, and that's final,' he spun around and walked out the door.

Knowing that his family wasn't the one that had given up on him, he felt a twinge of regret every night. No friend could fill up the space where John and Dean had been. No textbook could replace the vocabulary Dean had taught him from toddler to now. No gym worked the same program as John's. It was all different.

But wasn't that what he wanted?

Their presence still lingers, always on Sam's mind, always around the room like an angry spirit reluctant to leave. At times, his smile would fall just thinking of them. His eyes would lose their shade of happiness just speaking their names out loud.

**These wounds won't seem to heal  
This pain is just too real  
There's just too much that time cannot erase**

Some wounds remain so deep that scars wouldn't need to make themselves known. By looking at a person, you could see the things they have endured. Sam would only show signs of weakness when no one was around to witness it. And when he did, it didn't look pretty at all.

The words that were exchanged that night could never be forgotten. Dean's voice so clear in his head, asking him why he had to do this. Dad's voice like a knife piercing through his head, so sharp and evident that he was angry, telling him to stay gone if he were to go.

Sam didn't have an autopilot mode like his brother. He always needed someone to talk to, someone to discuss things with to make him feel better. Putting one foot in front of the other just wasn't him. He couldn't do that.

The more he'd dwell on the things that had happened that night, the more he'd venture on the past. He'd dig up long forgotten memories and relive them again in his mind, whether if it was feeling the comfort of Dean's hug ten years ago, or putting his hands on the steering wheel of the Impala for the first time.

Above everything else, Stanford was painful.

**When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears  
And I held your hand through all of these years  
But you still have  
All of me**

Dean always said that Sam made everything better. When Sam's patching up skills were professional enough, he would help Dean stitch his wounds up every time he ended up hurt from a hunt. When Dean thought Sam wasn't watching, small tears would well in his eyes when he'd pull the needle out. It made Sam ache to see his courageous brother cry, but he pretended not to notice. Instead, he laid a hand on his shoulder.

A question that Dean always knew how to reply.

"Don't worry, Sammy. I'm okay. I'll always be okay. You just have to play your part."

Sam knew what the last part meant. To play his part meant to stay alive- to be in his world and that was all Dean needed to be okay. It was comfort that spread through his being like a fire that refused to die out.

A forever burning flame in his heart.

Sam was a solid existence in Dean's life. It was how he always thought it'd be. Just the two of them- two brothers against a marching army of demons. Two months later, it'd just be him. Him alone fighting some unknown war with no one to watch his back, No one to keep the smile from his face. It would be like stranded on an island.

**You used to captivate me  
By your resonating light  
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind  
Your face it haunts  
My once pleasant dreams  
Your voice it chased away  
All the sanity in me**

After the Yellow Eyed Demon crashed the Impala, it was a downward drive to hell. Seeing Dean on the hospital bed, pale and still was breathtaking and shocking. Dean had never touched death, never needed paddles over his chest to keep his heart beating. How can one soldier fight in a war against hundreds? How? It sounded ridiculous.

When Sam was nine years old, he remembered the coolest dream he had. He was riding his own motor bicycle with his own shades, helmet and expensive leather jacket. The breeze made his hair like brown seaweed in the air, and his jacket would flap behind him as the wind danced past. He didn't want to wake up. He even believed it was a dream from God for a few days.

A little over twelve years later his dreams changed dramatically. From motor bikes, to his dead girlfriend and now his brother. A recurring nightmare. Dean would stand before his bed and tell him that he made the deal because of Sam. It was all about Sam. "I didn't want to do it." Dean said, his eyes cold and no longer the gentle color Sam was always used to. "I really didn't. But seeing you there, you were so weak, so helpless…"

It was always after that word that Sam would awake instantly, his eyes snapping wide, always turning to look for Dean.

**These wounds won't seem to heal  
This pain is just too real  
There's just too much that time cannot erase**

Sam gave it time during school. For the first couple of days he pushed it out of his mind, tried to forget it like wrenching a memory away from his mind. He gave it weeks and when the weeks didn't make it any easier, he gave it months. He pleaded that the weight inside his chest, threatening to push his heart straight down to his stomach would subside. Not one hunt has made Sam endure so much pain.

The months flew by with exams as he struggled to keep up with what was going on around him. Each spoonful of food was getting harder to place in his mouth, let alone swallow. Each word of affection spoken to his friends was getting too hard to make his eyes light up and his chest explode with joyous laughter. His friends didn't notice, but he did.

He didn't need anyone to tell him; he knew it deep down.

He was getting colder on the inside. His flame was dying out. And even though he knew, Sam just _knew_ that his family was just a phone call away, he found it hard to breathe, found it hard to live. He couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of breakdown he'd go through if the last of his family _wasn't_ a simple phone call away.

The casual stroll through the hospital corridor with the desired coffee in one hand seemed just like another day. Sam finally felt light again, his brother had just woken up from the car crash, and John was there. He was their father again. It all seemed normal.

He was just about to smile at himself when a figure on the floor caught his attention. With a glance to his right, his eyes widened and in just a mere second, he found it difficult to breathe again. The cup of coffee, long forgotten, crumbling like the walls inside Sam's heart fell to the floor as he sprinted over to his fallen father, taking simple strides but it seemed like he was crossing a bridge.

A bridge that separated life from death.

**When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears  
And I held your hand through all of these years  
But you still have  
All of me**

Dean always used to tell Sam that their Dad was once a normal Dad. One that tucked their children away at night. Sam only believed what he was told, but the person that played this role in his life had always been Dean. Dean was the constant being in his life.

Sam was a growing plant and Dean was the sunlight, the water, the soil and the plant growing beside it.

Dean had always been a brother, a father, a best friend and a teacher to Sam. A brother that lightly punched him when he said something stupid. A father that patted his back when he was told to duck in a hunt. A best friend that was always in his life standing beside him. And a teacher who always taught him new things; whether it was safe sex or how to roll out of the way in style during a fight.

And he was like no other comedian.

The fun and cocky personality Dean was born with. Whether it was prank wars, a lesson on the difference between "Real Music and Shit Music, Sammy," or just a way to pass the time, Sam remembered each one of them. Even if he had rolled his eyes, his heart had warmed up. It was what they did. They relied on one and another to see the daylight of tomorrow and that being said, it wasn't only watching out for each other. Dean was a constant person in Sam's life, someone you couldn't get rid of, who you wouldn't even dream of getting rid of and someone who you couldn't _ever_ live without.

When the doctor called time of death on John, Sam was devastated. The whole situation was making his head spin- He didn't want to think anymore but he just had to. Questions were making their way into Sam's mind before he could block them out.

Was this Sam's consequence for walking away from his family to go to school?

Did Sam deserve this because of all the orders he refused to listen to when he was younger?

Sam took a deep breath, but it didn't feel like his chest was inflated with air. He didn't feel anything. His father had just died and his brother looked about as shocked as Sam. No matter how many breaths he took, the emptiness in his chest was never filled. It was like a constant reminder of what a failure he was and everything that went wrong in his life.

**I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone  
But though you're still with me  
I've been alone all along  
**

He couldn't help but think for the thousandth time in his twenty four years of living, that if he had never existed, his family wouldn't suffer such a terrible life. Hell, if Sam was to think about it his Mom wasn't even given a chance at living. Her life had just accelerated to a new level, one where she was the boss and had her own two beautiful bright kids. Every mother's dream was to watch their sons grow into fine young men, have women on their arms and watch as her grandkids mature in the same fashion.

But that never happened to Mary. Just when one of the two treasures of her life was a mere 6 months old, she was murdered in her son's room.

Now _that_ was cruel and unfair.

And Sam didn't even need to think to know that his father wasn't given a proper life.

Fathers react almost the same way as mothers when children are born. When Dean jumped into John's arms at the age of 4, he imagined his sons handsome and proud. He imagined Mary and him, the two of them at each other's side until normal deaths took either of them away.

After finding out the truth about what happened, John's heart slowly became cold and his mind was slowly obsessing about the wrong thing. He forgot how to be a father, how to communicate and how to love.

And if Sam thought deeply about Dean, he knew that if, and _if_ Mary was killed in the same fashion, which he highly doubted, the partnership of father and son would be so strong and powerful and they wouldn't have a burden by their side. Dean learnt quick, followed John's instructions without any questions because he understood. He understood what was happening, knew that a dominant evil had murdered their mother twenty two years ago.

What was there for Sam to get except words that weaved their way into Sam's mind, desperate for a real image of what had happened?

It was simple. Life was a bitch. And if Sam didn't exist, life would be much less of a bitch in the Winchester family.

After what happened in Cold Oak, Sam remembered how alone he felt when he woke up and no one was there. Every other time, when he was unconscious after a hunt, he had always found Dean hovering over him. When Sam woke up, he didn't register the pain. The only thing that went through his head was where his brother was.

Swallowing hard, his mind raced. What if Dean had gone after Jake? Or worse, what if Jake finished off Dean? Sam felt terrified and alone that struck him deep to the core. Where was everyone and why was he the only one left here?

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he whimpered as the pain in his lower back made itself known and he knew he had to see how serious the wound was. After taking a quick look at it, the door opened as he was smothered by the material of Dean's shirt.

**When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears  
And I held your hand through all of these years  
But you still have  
All of me**

Sam seldom showed his weakness. He rarely cried in front of anyone.

Sam remembered the time when he was young, a few years before his teenage years and his Dad was so angry at him because he did something wrong on a hunt. He didn't understand it, the three of them got out alive, the hunt was hours ago and everything was fine. Why did he have to scream at him until he looked him in the eye and spoke a clear "Yes Sir, I won't do it again." He remembered that time he had balled his fists up so hard that his little nails bit into the palm of his hand as he willed himself not to cry.

Sam remembered the time when he was fourteen and John didn't let him go to his friend's house to complete an assignment that he'd been keen on completing. Standing up to his father, he argued back and the longer they were at it, the more harsh words were exchanged. Each minute, a bad memory of the past was brought up and tossed around, lingering in the air. John had shouted for the millionth time that they were here focusing on the spirit, not about school and that this spirit could appear anywhere and Sam might be caught off guard. Sam had countered back, saying that he could defend himself, that he could look after himself.

But John had had it. He counted in Sam's face the times he didn't follow instructions and nearly got them killed, and further explaining that he would stand no chance against a spirit or something supernatural if it jumped Sam when least unexpected. Before Sam had a chance to argue, John had whispered a "So what makes you think that I'll let you go by yourself for a few hours when you're not as expertly trained like your brother?" Sam remembered how his own eyes flashed and his jaw was clenched so tightly that he was afraid he would damage his teeth, but that was least of his worries. He couldn't cry in front of his father, especially since the situation had gotten so out of hand.

With a stubborn "Fine," through clenched teeth, the tears never even dared to burn Sam's eyes as he lied on his bed.

Sam remembered the time he walked out the door, each step getting closer to Stanford, each step getting further away from his family. He had to stay strong, because Stanford didn't accept pathetic people. That was why Sam was chosen. They thought it was resilient, strong and smart. He couldn't let the world see how two faced he was. He needed to be what they thought he was. Resilient, strong, smart and normal. Passing the threshold of the door, he wiped the memories of his family's hurt faces away from his mind. To stop his chin from trembling, he bit his bottom lip so hard until small droplets of blood oozed from the abused flesh. He wasn't a kid anymore, but Sam knew deep down that that was the closest he'd ever come to breaking down.

Sam remembered when he was leaning on the black, shiny Impala, asking Dean whether he had truly died or not. His brother shook his head as a smile formed on his face. There was no humor in it, and both knew that. His eyes bore down on the earth below him. It was as if he was telling himself that he had been busted, that he should have tried to hide it more clearly. The answer was confirmed. With a strained question asking Dean how long he had, he knew he didn't want to hear it. The answer would be too much to bear.

It seemed like forever as the silence rang between them but it was only short seconds. One year, Sam heard. One year. Sam asked Dean how on Earth he could have done that and again he didn't want to hear the answer. Dean's love for Sam was unconditional when he didn't deserve such love. Dean deserved it more than he did, but now he was going to die in a year and Sam owed him so much that words could not explain. Sam owed Dean something that no money could replace, no smile could lighten and no action could comfort.

Or so he had thought.

And that was when Sam's heart shattered as he broke down. Tears cascaded down his cheeks. No balled fists, no clenched teeth and no biting of the lip could stop the tears, the trembling of the chin, the heaves his chest were assaulted with nor the hiccups that surfaced. Dean's words echoed in his head, taunting him and teasing him, beckoning him to surrender and to _do_ something about it.

One year.

One year.

**TBC.**

**Please tell me how you liked it, and I hope everyone is enjoying this. **


	2. Present

**Thanks for the reviews! And be sure to read my very important author's note at the end of this chapter!**

**Set: After Season 3, Mystery Spot. **

**2/3 Present- Tired by Ryan Huston**

**I'm getting so tired, so tired of the same  
The same old shit just on a different day  
You think that you know, but how could you see  
The problems I face, the battle in me  
The days pass me by and still all the same  
When nothing is different, it drives me insane  
All that I am, all that I'll be  
Is so undecided, the battle of me**

Sam sat in the Impala by himself as he watched Dean enter the motel himself, asking for a room with two queens. Things were so different now- Dean wasn't who he was before. Sam was eager to break the deal. He felt like he was in a forest finding an antidote to a deathly poison slowly eating away his brother. The only catch was that the antidote could be anything of the color green. That was how hard it was.

But after everything he'd tried, Sam forces himself to try harder and harder. The soft confession that came from Dean that day was unforgettable. When Dean told Sam that he didn't want to go to hell, he promised himself with everything he had that he _would_ save his brother.

But that was before the string of Tuesdays that followed. Sam tried to push the thoughts out of his mind. He didn't want to see Dean electrocuted, or slipping on the wet bathroom tiles. He couldn't stand it anymore.

But Sam will never give up. Come day, night, storm, hail or demon, nothing would stop him. He was determined and he had his mind set. Every morning, he woke up with a tired voice in his mind encouraging him that he'll find something today. It was the only thing keeping him from crumbling.

His brother on the other hand, didn't seem to care. Come chicks, beer, sex, poker- he's up for it. It's like he had forgotten that each day he lived, his year-long life was no longer a year anymore. Soon, it'd be three quarters of a year. Then half a year. And then…

The keys jangled on Dean's hand as he looked at Sam through the other side of the Impala window. "Room 12, what'cha waiting for?"

As they both settled inside the motel, Sam automatically reached for the laptop.

"Hey, Sam, relax. We just arrived here; let's go get something to eat first. The hunt can wait."

Hesitating, Sam replied. "This isn't about the hunt, Dean."

Dean froze in his tracks. He knew full well what Sam meant. "Then what are you doing, kiddo? C'mon, let's go!"

"You know what I'm talking about, Dean."

Dean sighed. "Sam..."

"No, you don't know how much this means to me. Why won't you let me do it? Why are you so reluctant?"

"I'm..." Dean licked his lips. "I'm not reluctant, Sam. I just think you should give yourself a break."

"No." Sam shook his head. "If you're hungry then you can go grab something to eat."

Dean scrunched up his face in frustration. "Fine. We're ordering Pizza." But at least he could hang around and distract Sam in case he does find something. Dean just won't allow Sam to find something.

**000**

After scrolling through pages and pages on the net, Sam held a glass of water to his lips. The cooling liquid seemed soothing to his throat, but he paid no attention to that. He paid no attention to what Dean was doing. He saw his brother's figure lying on the bed, but asleep or not he didn't care. He seemed so close but in reality so far. He's been at this for months already. His brother's life only had a little over six months until it really ended.

**What if I'm on my own by myself all alone  
What if I can't be there all the same everywhere**

The screen started becoming too bright, the words seemed like they were shifting themselves as Sam rubbed his tired eyes and tried to read. His eyes started to burn and water, his eyelids drooping. Turning his head to face Dean, his lips turned into a thin smile as he saw his brother sprawled on the bed, softly snoring. Shutting his laptop, he silently crawled into bed and stared at the red blinking numbers looking back at him.

It was as if the clock itself was against him; challenging him to stop what he couldn't stop.

11:59.

And then the digits changed.

12:00

Sam swallowed hard. A day wasted. Gone. One less day. No useful information.

He wondered when God would grant him his one desired wish. He was the one who had started everything. Why was he the one that deserved to be the last man standing?

Stifling a yawn, he couldn't help but notice the extra amount of tears that leaked through his eyelids.

**000**

Sam woke up, earlier than Dean which was a usual occurrence these days. He couldn't help but notice his brother's carefree mood all of a sudden. If someone who didn't know them well enough voiced their opinion, they would tell Sam to give Dean more time so that he'll grasp the idea of what he had done.

But Sam knows that that isn't the case. Sam knows that Dean _knows_ what he did. He doesn't need further reminding. It hurts one brother as much as it hurts the other. But the carefree mood, Sam will never understand that. His brother can be like a jigsaw puzzle one day and an open book the next.

Jotting down a quick "Gone to get breakfast. Be back soon," he left the motel and walked down to the shops. As he arrived, an electronics shop with a muted television on display caught his attention. As the ad unfolded, big words slid onto the screen.

Have you ever felt the grains of sand slipping between your fingers? Have you ever felt that life is too short to do the things you want to do? Have you ever seen the light of someone's eyes die out?

Have you ever lost someone you cared about?

Sam forced himself to tear his eyes away from the screen and walk away. The world was teasing him. He was sure of it.

**I'm getting so tired, I'm needing a break  
A break from all the, shit that I take  
I'm tired of all this, waiting around  
For something to happen in this little town  
Don't tell me you know, don't say you agree  
With all that I'm saying, don't think you know me  
All that I am, all that I'll be  
Is so undecided, the battle of me**

Sam watches Dean sitting on his bed. He watches him from the corner of his eye as his fingers hit the keys of his laptop. He knows that Dean is just itching to be on a hunt instead of sitting around the motel room because Sam refuses to do anything except dig around the internet.

Dean takes a bite of his burger and hums to his music. His hand rests on his thigh, his fingers tapping to the beat of the music. Sam knows that if this situation was any different, the steering wheel of the Impala would be the thing that Dean's fingers were drumming on. Sam knows Dean misses driving the Impala, searching for the next hunt and his brother beside him.

Sam knows that Dean _will_ miss driving the Impala. There are so many things that make Dean, Dean. Sam knows that once Dean is gone, everything will be different.

There will be no need to write stupid notes telling one another that they've gone to get breakfast. There will be no one else to talk to, no one to joke around with him when situations get too out of hand. There will be no need to hide the fact that Sam didn't have a brother anymore- that as far as anyone else knew, Dean Winchester had really died in St. Louis. There will only be one cup of coffee that Sam will bring back to motel which only has one bed.

There will only be one passenger in the classic Impala.

"Sam?"

Dean's voice cuts through his heart-wrenching thoughts like knife through butter.

Sam realizes that his fingers were just resting above the keys of his laptop.

"Sam, give it a rest. Give yourself a break. Sam?"

And Sam's at it again. His fingers mechanically working their way over the keyboard. Dean almost thinks Sam's ignoring him. But then he hears it.

"I can't." A voice so broken and alone. "I have to get you out of this. I have to. You said it yourself, Dean."

Shit. Now Dean doesn't know what to say. "That's not what I meant...I didn't want you to push yourself Sam."

"I'm not pushing myself." Sam grounded. "I need to do this."

"Look Sam, I understand-"

Something in Sam exploded. He whipped his head around and looked at his brother, trying to soften the blow. "No, you don't understand, Dean. I lived day after day after day seeing you die. Seeing the blood flowing out of you, seeing you unconscious-_dead_ on the floor!"

Dean was taken back at what Sam was saying. He couldn't remember much, just remembered the trickster and what Sam told him in the diner.

"I watched you die countless times. From being shot, to being killed by a car, choking on your food, electrocuting yourself, slipping on wet tiles and then being mugged and shot _again_." Sam's voice cracked on the last one. It was the time that Dean truly died for three months. He had left Sam completely.

If the situation wasn't so serious, Dean would have laughed until tears leaked out of his eyes. Dean Winchester died because he slipped on some wet tiles?

"Sam..." He started.

Sam shook his head. "No, don't say it. I have to do this. Whatever it takes, I have to."

Seeing the raw desperation in Sam's eyes took Dean's breath away. The pain, the honesty, it was all too much. His mind briefly remembered the look of relief when Sam woke up to see Dean on Wednesday morning. And then the unexpected hug. It all made sense now, what Sam went through, what he saw.

"You don't have to stick around." Sam said. "If it makes you feel better, head down to the bar and pick up a girl."

Dean shook his head. "You're doing this for me, Sam. I'm not going anywhere. And above the stormy ocean, Sam found his light again. He smiled, an appreciation that Dean was in fact right behind him still supporting him gave him an extra supply of fuel to run on.

To Dean, that smile was one he had been missing for an awful long time.

**What if I'm on my own by myself all alone  
What if I can't be there all the same everywhere**

Sam had no one to lie to. He knew the truth deep down. Sam didn't want to be alone without a family. Without help, without a friend, without _someone._ Sam looks at himself in the mirror at time to time. He looks and he thinks. He is one person. Human. One human against so many other _supernatural_ creatures.

Sam had already survived three months before without Dean. How can he survive years- decades without him?

Sam was deathly scared to be alone, all by himself. He admits to no one that his hands tremble at night simply at the thought of it. This was something that he couldn't face- something that he'd never _thought_ about and something he had never, ever been through before.

Sam's not stupid. He knows he'll have to deal with everything and he'll have only himself to rely on. He's the only one that he can rely on when things take a turn for the worse. What if Sam turns evil? Who's there to save him now?

Sam's gone through it all. No one will save him. How can he save himself? How can one stop them from turning into something they have no control over?

Feeling like broken shards of glass that can never be replaced, Sam glanced at his brother wearily. He was in the same position as he was before they had started to talk. Fighting hard to contain an exhausted sigh, Sam closed the laptop and stood up, groaning as he stretched his muscles. Dean's head snapped up and followed Sam's every movement.

"Feel like going out to eat?" Sam asked, tired though there was a high amount of hope in his voice. He wanted to be with his brother again, wanted to feel like no such deal had ever been made.

A smile lit Dean's face as he discarded his walkman like rubbish. "Sure Sammy."

It was a pleasure for both of them to be back in the Impala again. Though it was a short drive, they both missed the passing scenery, the rumble of the engine and the _smell_ of the car.

"Let's go, I'm starving."

"Man, you can't go a couple of hours without food eh?"

"That's why you're lanky like a pole and the chicks come to me like bees to honey." Dean flashed his charming smile.

Sam rolled his eyes, and for a moment he felt like everything was normal again, that the stupid deal had never been made and a new hunt awaited them along with the Impala parked around the corner.

But there were so many _what ifs _in Sam's mind and so many negative thoughts. But all of a sudden something caused him to snap back to reality. The future was not set in stone. It never was, and it was then that Sam began to wonder when he started believing that it did.

At that instant, Sam forgot about the future. He'd deal with what he could; he'd deal with today and worry about tomorrow, when tomorrow comes. And today, he'd squeeze in some time with Dean before getting back to work again and see if today will be any more different than yesterday.

Sam sat at the table as he watched Dean flirt with the waitress a few feet away. Shaking his head, the corners of Sam's lips curled upwards as he thought of how _long_ a simple order was going to take. His fingers itched to be in front of the laptop, working away like a robot, like how he was every other day, but Sam knew that what he was doing looked wrong.

Dean deserved some time with Sam, who was a solid presence in his life and Sam couldn't be more thankful for that.

His stomach grumbled as he looked at Dean to see if he was done. Dean was leaning in close her, their mouths moving but Sam could not hear what they were talking about. She was writing something down, perhaps the order? Sam was leaning more onto the fact that it may be her number.

Sam smiled suddenly, an idea forming in his mind as he stood up and walked towards his brother.

Dean noticed the figure towering over him and jerked his head up. "Hey Sam." He flashed his charming smile. "What's wrong?"

Sam grinned, and slapped his hand across Dean's back. "Nothing's wrong, _darling._ Have you ordered yet?"

The waitress stared at them in shock as Sam bit his lip, refraining from bursting out laughing. His grin grew into a smirk as he stared into his brother's eyes.

"Watch your ass, bitch. You're on." Dean whispered as he walked past him, mock anger in his tone.

"Jerk." Sam chuckled. "You were taking way too long."

"You're unbelievable, you Sasquatch. Now go and order."

"Why don't you go and order?"

"I tried that a few minutes ago, Sam."

"You afraid?"

"One more word and I'm getting in the Impala without the food."

"Hey, check it out she's looking at you."

"Sam."

"Shut up, I'm going."

Sam felt light and never before has he felt this sense of normalcy, not even at Stanford. _This_ was Sam's normal.

He felt like nothing was wrong, carefree and at peace. He couldn't ask for anything more with his brother by his side, smirking and winking at him.

Sam softly sighed, wishing that moments like this could last forever. He wished that they would both continue hunting and driving across states; that they wouldn't have a burden on their shoulders, or they'd wake up and breathe in the air with relaxation with nothing haunting their minds.

And he knew that maybe these wishes would come true one day.

**IMPORTANT A/N: This is where the fic ends for some people. Readers who feel uncomfortable or bothered by ****mentions**** of ****character death****should stop here. That was the main reason why I didn't classify this fic as a "Tragedy" since not everyone would be reading a tragedy. Thanks in advance!**


	3. Future

**Thanks for the awesome reviews! For those who've kept reading, I hope you will enjoy this. And for those who missed the warning last chapter, let me say it again. This has mentionsof character death!**

**3/3 Future **

**Skillet – Say Goodbye.**

She took the empty glass in one hand and wiped the bench down with the other. It was late Thursday night- or should she say early Friday morning? No matter, it was the same thing. Just when she thought the last customer was finished for the night, the doors swung inwards and a man walked in, his eyes downcast with melancholy. She seemed drawn to him, not in _that_ way but in a way that made her stop time just to listen to his story. He sauntered up to the bench like a lifeless zombie, his arms swinging uselessly by his side as he strode up to her and sat down heavily on the stool, his shoulders slumping. 

If it wasn't for the grunt that resembled his desired tequila shots for the night, she'd have doubted he even realized that she was there at all.

The first shot was downed and soon she had to provide them quicker than she could collect them. After the sixth, he laughed all of a sudden. She stopped dead in her tracks and dared to lift her eyes. 

"Sweetie, are you alright?" She asked nervously. 

Again, he chuckled and for the first time he looked at her with those piercing blue eyes of his.

"Me? Yeah, I'm perfect."

She could tell that he was anything _but_ perfect. He leaned in closer, and for a fraction of a second she felt afraid but was soon replaced by sorrow. 

"You know," He started. "I'm turning 25 today."He threw his head back and downed another shot.

"Happy birthday sweetie. Shouldn't you be celebrating your 25th with someone?" She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. The stranger before her shook his hand and bit his lip. 

There was a heavy silence that hung in the air as he tilted his head inwardly to the side, as if secretly in deep thought. She could almost seem to hear his thoughts- as if contemplating whether or not he should tell her. 

She felt like an intruder in his world, even though she worked here, as she stood opposite of him, waiting and watching. 

"I lost my brother." He finally whispered. His voice cracked as he slammed his fist down forcefully on the bench. 

She didn;t flinch, didn;t withdraw with fear or surprise as she placed a hand on his shoulder. Clear, blue orbs gazed into hers once again, so helpless and so lost, so exhausted but yet never resting.

She didn;t know why the words just came out of her mouth as if they would help the man before him. It just felt _right_ to say it. 

"Darling, you just gotta keep searching. You;ll find him sooner or later."

His nostrils flared as he tensed and she momentarily wondered if she had broken him to the limits by saying that. 

**Things are changing  
It seems strange and  
I need to figure this out  
You've got your life  
I got mine  
But you're all I cared about  
Yesterday we were laughing  
Today I'm left here asking  
Where has all the time gone now  
I'm left alone somehow  
Growing up and getting older  
I don't want to believe it's over **

Dean had died. Dean did die and Dean was dead. That was all Sam could think about as he sat by himself in the Impala- in the passenger seat. People walked by and didn;t think it odd that Sam didn;t have a driver in the vehicle. And neither did Sam. He felt like he didn;t deserve to own the Impala since it hadn;t been officially given to him. 

It was Dean who had fixed the car after the run-in with the Yellow-Eyed Demon and his semi-trailer. Sam didn't deserve to drive the car. Sam didn't deserve to have a brother who was now in Hell because of him, and Sam didn't deserve to live this life that had caused his family so much pain and suffering. 

Sam's eyes were red-rimmed but he no longer cried. He didn't have the strength to deal with the aftermath of his breakdown, nor did he have the strength to piece the broken pieces of his shattered and torn heart back together. 

Sam sat there, staring off into the distance as he wondered what the strange girl was talking about back at the bar. Dean was lost to him, so why did she tell him to keep searching? Didn't she know how stupid and childish that sounded? He snaked his hand to the rearview mirror and readjusted it so that his eyes bore deep into the ones of his very own. 

Tired and broken, alone and frustrated was what gazed back at him.

Sam swallowed hard.

Something about his eyes was different- like they were haunted. The dark shadows lingered in the depths of his soul that emanated from his eyes. Sam had interviewed so many grieving people in their line of work before that he knew why they held that look. It was the look that told everyone who dared lay eyes on them that they had lost someone. He had never understood that look in the eyes, the dead and unstaring look. 

And now Sam understood. 

**000**

Sam sat on the bed in the motel room. He didn't know what to do- there was nothing he could do. He felt so helpless, like he wasn't important in this world anymore. There had been a time when he felt like he was someone, someone called Sam Winchester who he proudly announced to be John Winchester's son and Dean Winchester's brother. But now, who were John and Dean Winchester? 

Sam felt like being stranded on an island, the stormy sea threatened to imprison him and drown him. 

The pillows up against his chin once felt soft but now, they felt hard like they had no reason to be soft anymore. The mattress seemed like a plank of wood beneath him, hard and unforgiving. Sam didn't feel anymore, he didn't know how to. 

Dean had been Sam's everything. Dean _is still_ Sam's everything. 

Sam knew. Sam had always known that Dean was a born hunter but Sam was a boy that liked school and looked forward to red A's on his test papers. If Sam wasn't a Winchester, the two of them would never cross paths, never even come close to being friends because they both looked at life in a different light. They both had different goals but Sam disregarded the differences and his brother was all he cared about, especially when John had sold his soul. 

The reality of it came crashing down on him as he dwelled in his sadness. The word alone had never taken such a deep effect on him. Being alone filled his being with dread as he realized no one would be watching his back, and no one to return the favor to. One wrong move and he would be gone- no one to double check, no one he could talk with to help him ease the stress off his shoulders. 

Sam had thought about it- he could hunt with Bobby but he didn't want to feel like he was a burden or someone who couldn't pick themselves up like a toddler. Sam didn't want to believe it was over, not now, not ever. But it is, and time will never rewind itself back to the way when everything was just perfect. 

**Don't say goodbye  
Cause I don't wanna hear those words tonight  
Cause maybe it's not the end for you and I  
And although we knew  
This time would come for me and you  
Don't say anything tonight  
If you're gonna say goodbye **

Dean had never sad goodbye to Sam. He had never meant it permanently. Sure, Sam's heard him say it to poltergeists, shapeshifters, vampires and demons when he was sending them back to hell, but all those times it hadn't bothered Sam since it wasn't directed at him. Images assaulted him- images of Dean doing normal things on normal days- the cocking of the shotgun, the slamming of the trunk or how Dean's actions meant so much more than spoken words. 

Sam dwelled on the fact that he'd never see the way Dean live his life as a brother and best friend to Sam. The thought of it made his stomach churn as he tried to control his breathing. He laid down on the bed and focused on the motel wall- anything _but_ the ceiling. The beat of his heart pounded in his ears. He didn't dare move a muscle, afraid that such a small movement would make him lose it completely and throw up over his bed. 

Sam strongly protested against throwing up, especially when Dean wasn't around to place a comforting hand on his back and whisper soothing words of reassurance. Sam felt like he was in an ocean without a life-jacket, drowning as waves of water splashed over him. There was nothing to keep him afloat, nothing for him to hold on to and put his trust in to take him back to shore, back to safety. Back home. 

**Do you remember  
In December?  
How we swore we'd never change  
Even though you're leaving  
That our feelings  
Would always stay the same  
I wish we could be laughing  
Instead I'm standing here asking  
Do we have to end this now  
Can we make it last somehow  
We both know what we've gotta say, not today  
Cause I don't wanna leave this way **

The rain belted down on Sam as if the heavens were angry at him for not saving Dean. Heavy droplets of water splashed onto his face, soaking his clothes. His skin became clammy and cold but he didn't care- he didn't feel it. Sam sprinted down the deserted streets, pass normal families in hours that spend stormy nights drinking hot chocolate in front of their TV. 

Sam has no family to go to now, so he ran with no set destination like a blind man groping for sight. Sam was desperate for this to be one terrible nightmare, but the only answer to his prayer was a flash of light that lit up the sky followed by claps of thunder that echoed around him, and if it was even possible, the rain fell harder.

Tears of frustration made their way down Sam's face but as quickly as they sprung, they were washed away. Sam's chest heaved as his lungs fought to pull oxygen in as his legs threatened to break under his weight. Water continued to whip at him, the torture seemed to never end. "Why?" Sam screamed. He didn't care if people thought he was insane- the streets were deserted anyway.

"Why did you have to take my brother?" He shouted loud enough for the next state to hear until his throat burned and his voice became raspy. Sam collapsed on all fours, his clothes not able to soak any more water as the rain just slid off him. He pounded his fists on the ground as if knocking on Hell's doors, and hey isn't that funny? Dean's in hell and Sam's not getting him back.

"Dean..." He whispered. Sam clenched his teeth together and squeezed his eyes shut when suddenly the rain seemed to have stopped. 

"Son, are you alright? Do you need a hand?" A man asked, holding an umbrella over their heads as he peered down at him. Sam felt stupid and small. No one ever peered down at him. "Leave me alone!" He cried, but it came out as a child's plea. Sam pushed the man's knees weakly, beckoning him to let him be. The man stumbled backwards, and the rain was back again, as if telling him that he had done something wrong.

"Son I can help." He started, his voice gentle but loud above the roaring rain. "No, no you can't. You can't bring back the dead!" Sam bellowed, annoyed at the look of understanding in the man's eyes.

"C'mon let's get you up." The umbrella was over him once again, strong arms grasped his own and he was too weak to protest. How this man could help Sam was beyond him.

**000**

Sam's legs wobbled underneath him and he was barely holding up his own. The man had an arm wrapped around his shoulders with a strong grip. Sam wanted to feel safe, wanted to feel the comfort that he longed for but he couldn't. He felt like this would be betraying his brother, to feel and compare this man to him. His grip around his arm was so much like Dean and Sam wanted to hate himself. He felt sick at his thoughts.

Dean was unique, Dean was his brother. And now he was comparing a stranger to him. The desire to have someone beside him filling in that role was so strong he couldn't hide it under the surface anymore. 

The doors were pushed open and there was a roof above their heads. Their footsteps echoed as Sam sat on a bench while the man lit some candles on the table. The church made itself known as more and more candles were lit, the dark corners still shadowed but the aisle was dim.

"Young man, what's your name?" He asked.

"Sam." He croaked. "Sam Winchester."

The man nodded. "I'm Father Wilson Reece." Sam didn't care. "Sam? What happened? What drove you out there to face the rain by yourself?"

Sam didn't answer. He was tired of all this.

"You lost someone, I know." 

Sam's eyes rose to meet Father Reece's. "How'd you know?"

"When you accused me that I couldn't bring back the dead, I saw it in your eyes."

"But you can't." He whispered. "You can't right?"

Father Reece's heart ached for the man as he heard the glimmer of desperate hope in his voice. 

Shaking his head sadly, he answered. "No, Sam. No one can do that, but I know how you feel. I lost my daughter a little over four months ago. It was just me and her; a family."

And just like that, the roles were switched. 

"Yeah, but she wouldn't want you to dwell over her death." Sam replied straight away. He didn't even think about it, it was in his nature to understand people's feelings and try to make them feel better. 

"Sam, _listen_ to yourself! What makes you think your relative or friend you lost would want you suffering like this?"

"Brother." Sam whispered. "He was my brother. He taught me how to do everything. He was there for me right from the start. He was there for me, but in the end I wasn't there for him. I'm the last man standing, he died for me!"

"I'm sure your brother wouldn't regret anything, Sam."

Sam's eyes shot straight up. "How do you know?" He rasped. "You didn't know him, how could you be so sure?"

"It's simple. A man can tell so much just by looking at one person. Sam, if he didn't love and if you didn't love him, would you be mentally punishing yourself? It's not your fault. He knows, Sam."

Sam stood up and walked to the table glowing from the candles. His hands trailed pass everything as he closed his eyes. 

_House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music. Shotgun shuts his cakehole._

_As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you._

_Sam, I want to be a family again, you know?_

Dean's voice rang in his ears. He felt like he was standing right next to him. 

"te amo, Dean. gratias ago vos." Sam whispered as a candle blew out, but surprisingly he felt warm. He felt Dean's presence in his heart, his voice guiding him and urging him on. 

Father Reece smiled, understanding the language of Latin. He was surprised Sam had used it, and he pretended that he didn't hear what was said.

**Don't say goodbye  
Cause I don't wanna hear those words tonight  
Cause maybe it's not the end for you and I  
And although we knew  
This time would come for me and you  
Don't say anything tonight  
If you're gonna say goodbye  
**

Sam turned to face him, a smile lighting on his face. He shook the Father's hand and thanked him, hoping that they would cross paths one day. 

"You're welcome, Sam. You're a good man."

"I'm sorry about your daughter."

He shook his head, smiling. "I know she knows I love her. And I know she returns the favor unconditionally. And I know it's the same with your brother too."

Sam smiled, tears shining in his eyes. 

**000**

Sam finally understood. Goodbye meant final. Dean wasn't _never_ going to see him again. John was sent to Hell, but he had saved their lives that night. Who knows, maybe he'll open the Devil's Gate again. Sam snorted at that one. Even if he doesn't go ahead with that plan, Sam knew that Dean will live forever in his memory. Sam was certain. And he had never been so certain in his life. 

Saying goodbye to Father Reece had been painful, though. He was a stranger, he had pulled him from the rain and accepted him into his church, willingly helped him out. Such kindness of strangers out there, but that's nothing compared to the amount of evil. Sam promised himself that he would keep hunting, protect all the people he could. 

There were good people out there, ones that really shone in crowds, and Sam wasn't just going to let them die. 

The walk out the church's door was awkward, but comforting. Father Reece had put a familiar warmth back in his being that he could never forget and at the same time he could never thank with simply words of appreciation. 

**And if it's over  
It hurts but I'm giving you my word  
I hope that you're always  
Happy like we were  
Happy like we were **

After he had left the church, Sam was going to drive the Impala to the closest diner but he forgot about that idea long ago. It was still raining when he stepped outside, so in haste of getting into the Impala, his keys dropped on the floor of the car. 

Bending over to pick them up, Sam suspiciously eyed the crumbled piece of paper under the driver's seat. Putting the keys in the ignition and turning the heater on, he unfolded the paper as his heart clenched to see Dean's writing. 

_Dear Sammy. _

_I guess this is it. I hope you're not pouring your heart out as you're reading this, because hey remember, even though the car's yours, don't ruin it with your tears. The driver's seat is special, remember. Don't let anyone drive the car, don't let anyone touch it and if you need company, take it around for a drive to soothe your feelings. _

_Sam, I know how hard this is for you. For that I'm terribly, truly sorry. I couldn't survive a day without you, and knowing that you're forced to live years without me hurts so much. (And you better live years, Sam!) _

_The Impala is all yours now. Remember after you killed Gordon? That was the day I officially handed my baby to you. She's been in every hunt with us and has saved our lives countless times. Hell, she even survived a crash of her own. _

_Don't dwell on the past, Sam. Look into the future. Continue hunting, or have kids! Don't think what I would want you to do, think what you'd want to do. I'm here supporting you all the way Sam, whatever you choose. Don't follow Dad's footsteps and forget about what your kids need. If you keep hunting Sam, seek Bobby's help. Be careful if you hunt solo, and always check things over. _

_I know you as one of the most skilful hunters out there Sam. Keep up the Winchester name. Kick some demon ass, brother. Go to the bar every so often, get laid Sam! _

_Don't forget the awesome moves I taught you, especially on how to get a girl drooling all over you. I know you're stronger than me, stronger than Dad. You can overcome this. Don't be obsessed with evil so that it takes over everything. And don't let your emotions win the fight, and don't ever take it out on the Impala. _

_You are not to remember me as a major chick flick all because of this letter- no, that's all you. I'm your handsome big brother that gets all the chicks, but I guess one chick flick can pass. _

_Sam, I hope you can be happy like we were, happy like you always were as a little toddler asking questions to an adult Sasquatch. I can honestly say that I have no regret in me for doing what I did, and I have never been so honest in my life. _

_If you ever need to talk to someone, and Bobby's busy with work, talk to the car. You can think that I'm there listening in the passenger seat. Don't ever feel alone because you never were and you never will be. You know who's standing behind your back. You've got crowds of people supporting you, cheering you on. Don't give up. You never were that type of person. _

_You know I adore your handsome ass, but I won't spendlines andlines explaining that four letter L word. Chick flicks can only go so far until it becomes corny. You know what I mean, Sam. I know you adore my face too, dream of having it at night. Some things haven't been said between us but I know, Sam. You might think I don't, but I understand. Unconditional love doesn't come easy for most people, but it does to me. Especially when you have a geek-boy brother called Sammy Winchester. _

_And if you're thinking how I know the word unconditional, I'm so gonna kick your ass. I know I'll see you soon, Sam. We saw Dad and he was in the same position as me. I'm positive. Just you wait._

_And did you think I'd forget your 25th, Sam? Happy Birthday, you giant little brother of mine. I'll tell you what you can do, set yourself a record and see how many women you get to sleep with. If you beat mine, then you got it goin'. _

_Don't think I won't be there to celebrate these dates with you. You know where I am, and I don't mean downstairs. Knowing you for my entire life, you'll never forget me and just know it's a two way street._

_Until then, Sammy, you bitch. I can almost hear you say Jerk. And now I can almost see you laughing. _

_Dean._

**Yesterday we were laughing (if you're gonna say goodbye)  
Today I'm left here asking (if you're gonna say goodbye)  
And although we knew this time would come for me and you  
Don't say anything tonight  
If you're gonna say goodbye  
**

The letter shook in Sam's sweaty hands as he read it over and over again. 

Was it pure coincidence that Dean had written this letter for him and thought about his 25th birthday, when today _was_ Sam's 25th?Sam lifted his gaze towards the sky and saida quick prayer of thanks.

He had finally found what he was looking for. He had finally found Dean. Wasting no time, he stepped on the pedal and headed off to the place he had to be. 

**000**

The doors swung inward and there was something off about the man that strode in. He seemed oddly familiar but- with a gasp of realization she realized he was the man that he had spoken to last week! She felt relieved and happy just looking at him, like an unknown burden had lifted from her shoulders. He had his chin up high, his clear crystal eyes scanning the place as if he had done it his entire life. 

It was obvious he hadn't come here for a drink. He sat down in front of her with a lop-sided grin, so small that she'd miss it if she wasn't looking hard enough. 

But she was.

"What can I get for you, sweetie?" She asked, a strong hint of curiosity in her voice.

"I came here to say thank you." His voice was clear and gentle. "What you said to me the other day…you have no idea how much you helped me snap my eyes back to reality."

She smiled kindly as there was an awkward but understanding silence between them. 

"You're a nice person." He said finally. "A nice girl." He said this with thankful affection, not the flirting she got everyday, Hell, something told her that it'd be the last thing he'd do if it came to dating. Smiling, she nodded as he mirrored her action and turned to leave.

Something told her that she won't be seeing him for quite a long time. As he left, she was left with wonder and amazement at how this stranger could be so thankful to something she had said that day.

**000**

As Sam exited the bar, the sadness and grief in his life seemed to leave him with each step that was taken towards Dean's Impala- Sam's Impala. A part of it would always remain Dean's, but it was now Sam's turn to drive it.

The letter sat in the passenger seat as the Impala sped through the highway.

The stars twinkled and shone with happiness in the night as they watched the black vehicle along the stretch of road. 

"Just you wait, Dean. I'll be seeing you again some time soon. Just you wait." He said to the empty car. From the corner of his eye, he could picture his brother sitting beside Sam, smiling and humming to the music. 

He knew it was just all his imagination, but Sam could've sworn he saw an outline of him. He made a promise to himself, a promise to Dean and was confident that he would fulfill his wish. 

The first thing Sam had to do was to take revenge, and the other was to finally see Dean again. And Sam thinks he knows just how to do that. Time just needed to be on his side.

He breathed in and filled his lungs with the scent that screamed Dean. Sam Winchester was by himself in the world, but in his heart, mind and spirit he knew alone was far from it. 

Sam has his friends, his father, pictures of his mother, Jessica and the person who's been there with him all his life, Dean. Warmth spread through him and Sam felt reborn again.

And that was all he needed to survive in this crap-hole of a world.

**Fin.**

**First and foremost I must thank my two wonderful friends, Jess and Louise for being there for me while I wrote this. -hugs- Thanks a mega bunch!**

**Latin Translations: "te amo Dean. gratias ago vos" means "I love you, Dean. Thank you."**

**And lastly, don't forget to tell me if you enjoyed it or not!**


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